


interludes

by hexereii



Category: Fantastic Four (Comicverse)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Awkward Conversations, Complicated Relationships, Emotional Baggage, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Resolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:35:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23798566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hexereii/pseuds/hexereii
Summary: just a set of little asides and off-panel scenes where the characters have to face their feelings and/or where smut could happen. i don't really have a plan, just wanted an excuse to write feelsy doomreed smut, really.
Relationships: Reed Richards/Victor von Doom
Comments: 3
Kudos: 21





	interludes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during the events of Marvel Two-In-One (or actually just before them) while Victor is searching through Reed's abandoned lab for clues to his whereabouts.
> 
> (Chapter expanded and finished 04/24/2020)

Reluctant though he was to set foot in the Baxter Building again, something there seemed to call out to Victor with increasing urgency, nagging at the edges of his awareness night and day. He could almost have attributed it all to survivor's guilt, but that hardly fit the situation--Reed had made his own choices, his own errors, and no matter how tragic or regrettable the loss, it was certainly nothing to do with him. Logically, he knew that.

Still, he did feel an unpleasant sense of... _responsibility_ , more than anything else as he stepped cautiously over broken bits of machinery and gently righted a fallen bookcase, attempting to tidy the abandoned, debris-strewn space. Did anyone else even know this laboratory existed? Likely not. The coating of dust left smeared by his own armored fingertips said as much: he was the first person to set foot down here since the place had been vacated eight months ago. Or, if his recollections were correct, somewhere between eight years and eight weeks, depending on how one counted time. His own memories were hazy and fractured; whatever was not filled him with a mixture of confusion and bitter shame.

He had saved reality, and then ruled over it like a jealous god until--

'Until' what, precisely? That was where the memories broke apart and scattered like startled birds. He simply didn't know, that was the thing. Until Reed Richards and his family paid the ultimate price for Doom's selfishness, vanity, and overweening ambition. Until the only person who had ever looked at him as something like a friend had given his life undoing what Victor had done.

Was that really what had happened? It must be, surely. Else, Reed would be here with his family, with his best friend and brother-in-law and--

Victor found the sphere almost by accident, and retracted the armored plates neatly back from both hands to examine it more closely, mask folding away too. Interesting, yes, though clearly intended for one person in particular--and not difficult to guess who that target was. More importantly, simple enough to guess who it _wasn't_.

Fortunately, in the same unassuming cardboard box rested a second object, and that one proved more interesting to Victor personally--a hexagonal disc that sparked an annoying little flicker of _déjà vu_. This was the thing that had called to him, he felt sure of it, though he had no idea why he felt that way.

Brushing it with the center of his thumb, Victor scowled and struggled to dredge up memories that simply would not come, only to stop dead as the disc began to flicker with blue-white light.

"Interesting," he murmured; the walls around him faded swiftly to white, giving way to a featureless plane that he absolutely remembered... though not with with anything like perfect clarity.

"That's the same thing you said last time." Reed's voice, tired and uneasy, but very real and very much alive.Victor fumbled the disc and heard it hit the ground somewhere nearby.

"Richards?" His heart was beating in his ears suddenly, and the warning edge of anger in his tone barely disguised everything else he was feeling. "What's the meaning of this??"

Reed shook his head and crossed the room, arms out as if to embrace him--Doom couldn't seem to move in any direction at all. He couldn't think what to _do_ , beyond letting the armor slide into place like a second skin, concealing and protecting him while he tried to get his thoughts in order.

"Victor--" Seeing the mask click down clearly gave his old friend pause. One hand reached to touch the smooth, hard surface of it and then halted, the moment tense and still and strangely sad even from Von Doom's perspective.

"You won't need that here," Reed said softly, fingertips finally coming to rest against unyielding metal. He stepped closer, his other hand on Victor's shoulder. "Of course, you don't remember this, either--"

Well. That certainly caught his curiosity. 

Retracting the armor fully, Victor remained still through sheer force of will, trying not to think too much about how close Reed was standing, or the pleasant pressure of that hand against his cheek. His own heartbeat was suddenly _deafening_.

"No, I suppose I don't. Explain yourself, Richards."

Reed smiled wearily and let his hand fall away.

"We've met like this before, since Battleworld. Each time, it's been decided that your memory must be altered and you must continue to believe I died there." Absurdly, he drew back and examined Victor for a few seconds. "You look great, Victor! And a hero now? Amazing. This is exactly what I hoped for, what I always knew you could do, what I knew you could be!" 

Reed's fingers curled excitedly around his biceps and Victor was assailed by too many conflicting thoughts and impulses, all striking at the same time: the material was going to wrinkle terribly under Richards' enthusiastic assault, for one thing, and the way his eyes lit up so that they practically glowed, it reminded him too much of college--the last time Reed had looked at him like that had been college, yes--and then, he was much too close and where was Susan? Where were the others? The other Reeds, surely, had some hand in all of this...

But there wasn't a soul present except for the two of them. And there was no wedding band visible on any of the fingers crushing his arm in their joyous grip.  
Victor more or less folded himself into the space Reed left available, bending until their foreheads touched, eyes closed for a few blissful seconds of silence, peaceful harmony and reflection.

"You did this..." He couldn't trust his own voice, entirely. There was too much _feeling_ in it. "You let the world believe you were dead, Ben, Johnny... you did all of this--" For him, he knew. To give him room to become something else, something _more_. "--you arrogant, _foolish_ \--"

Reed's arms wrapped around him cautiously, and Victor tensed at the effort of simply not breaking down. 

(A gift he did not deserve. A gift he would never deserve. How could this man love so deeply and never once realize that his love was the wrong kind completely?)

Doom was shivering and couldn't seem to stop. It was so much better, it was vastly easier to bear Reed's outrage, his disappointment, his hatred than something like this, and how could he ever explain that? How could he ever make Richards understand? God, he could strangle the man for this, for the unthinking cruelty of this gesture, made from selfless, agape love that had not so much as a hint of romantic affection in it.

Hatred was at least nearly sexual in some twisted way; this was love, yes, but neutered and impersonal. It was as far from what Victor felt as it was possible to **_be_** , and his low, strangled sob surprised them both.

"Send me back, Richards; I would rather you were dead to me than this--" He'd already stood and pulled away, wiping his eyes angrily with the back of his hand and forcing himself to breathe in slow, measured draughts through his teeth.

"Victor, wait."

Guiltily, Doom paused but did not turn to look at his friend again; he busied himself with locating the inter-dimensional doorway tool--the hexagonal disc--and tucking it away in a pocket of his coat instead.

"I know what's wrong. I know why you're upset. And I think I know why this hurt you, even if that's the opposite of what I ever wanted to do. You're right, I am an arrogant, foolish man. I made this decision for both of us, I made it for my family, for Ben and Johnny, and I left the device so that you'd find me, because..." Reed laughed quietly, and ran a hand through his hair. "...Because I missed you. I didn't want to think we just couldn't be in the same world together, ever again..."

Hands curled into fists in his pockets, Victor stared hard at the white nothing that existed where the floor should be. "If there is a point to this, deliver it and be done. I have work to do--"

"I fell for you in college, Victor."

He felt his stomach drop, and was near certain his heart had stopped beating entirely.

"You... w- _what??_ "

A thin, strained smile met his look of disbelief.

"You clearly didn't reciprocate at the time, I thought. I didn't really know what to do. You left, I met Sue, life went on. Then you came back. No--" Reed held up a hand to correct himself and faced Victor fully. " _Doom_ came back. I've spent years, Victor, all this time between then and now, waiting for you to come back to me. Do you understand?"

Reed's brown eyes held a look of near-pleading, his need for comprehension was so acute. What could Victor possibly say? 

Uncanny, the sense of holding something so delicate in his hands that he hardly dared breathe for fear of breaking it.

"Yes," he said simply, weighing his next words with more care than he had any that preceded them. "And now that I have?"

Time had slowed to a trickle somehow; the featureless white space, the look of soft, bittersweet hope on Reed's face, the sound of his own pulse zipping along in his ears like a railway car with no breaks, Victor was quite certain he'd waited for at least a week before his 'old friend' finally reached out to him again and twined black-clad arms around both of his.

There was absolutely nothing platonic in the way their lips met, or the way Reed's tongue teased and darted and sought his until Victor groaned against his open mouth, freeing his hands to let them curl and pluck at the material of his uniform.

Pulling away took every last shred of even Victor's self-control.

"Loathe though I am to bring this up... you are still a married man, Reed."

The soft laugh surprised him.

"I am. I'm married to a woman who's wiser than both of us on our best day, in fact. Do you know how many times she's encouraged me to pursue exactly this, with you? I think if this didn't work, she was planning to just stuff me into an envelope and mail me to Latveria." The warmth of his skin through the unstable material of his suit made Victor's insides feel syrupy; all of this was as improbable as something from a dream he'd barely remember having later, but for now at least... 

It was astonishingly, terrifyingly real and he was holding onto it with both bare hands but it couldn't last, he knew. Time was still passing beyond this bright, formless space and no matter how it seemed, the world had not ceased to exist beyond the two of them.

He'd never had much patience with illusions.

"Reed..." How many years had he spent avoiding that name? Sparing it the same vicious associations that now sullied 'Richards?' It was unencumbered and new, a name that could be spoken gently, could be softened by affection and clipped short by longing. Victor even offered it reluctantly, as if saying it pained him somehow.

It did, though that was only for what followed after.

"I must return to the timeline and continue my part in this ruse. The world believes that you vanished eight months ago, your family with you, and Benjamin remains convinced of your death. These fictions must be allowed to continue until history catches up with reality; a fixed point in time--"

"--I know," Reed interrupted morosely. "I know, Victor." Drawing a deep breath, he craned his neck and pulled Doom's head down, lips touching lightly against his forehead. "And I know what that means for you, too."

Both hands braced the low curve of Reed's back, thumbs stroking the thin fabric against his skin in a slow, repeating motion.

"How many times have we done this?"

"Too many," Reed answered quickly enough that Victor was uncomfortably certain he'd heard the question before.

"Yes," he agreed, pressing his cheek against one greying temple and leaving a small kiss there. "But once more. We can hope it will be the last."

His familiar determination settled comfortably into place as Victor let go all at once and took a step back, pulling the disc from his pocket and examining it before he could change his mind.

"If any part of you remembers any part of this, Victor, let it be... that you should never give up or lose hope. The path you're on, I know it's the right one. no matter how difficult. Or how lonely."

"Doom does not fear loneliness." The reply was automatic, the hexagon gleaming in his cupped palm. "Nor anything else, for that matter." Glancing up at Reed's worried face, Victor suddenly realized that was no longer true.

Perhaps he could tell a lie after all, then--at least accidentally.

The disc activated itself in a burst of searing light and disappeared, leaving Victor to blink and squint as his eyes re-adjusted to the dreary basement of the Baxter Building again. Somehow, he'd lost track of his goal and that mystified him completely--since when did his memory fail _mid-task?_ Mid-task _and_ at the exact moment when he'd seemed... close to... something that felt important, though every detail melted away as he tried to summon them forth.

"Odd." He rubbed his forehead wearily and wondered what time it was; it felt late. Perhaps he should simply collect the one item of value his search turned up and call it a night. Ben would have no answers, that went without saying, but he might offer a useful _route_ to them unintentionally. It was a small hope, but better than none at all.


End file.
